


Tell Me On A Sunday

by Whyndancer



Series: Scattered Memories [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: And a happy ending, But he's working on it, F/M, Here be angst, Loki is terrible at emotions, Mutual Pining, more so than I'd planned, there is some fluff in there though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5591314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whyndancer/pseuds/Whyndancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They knew going into it that it was only a temporary thing, never meant to last. It was also supposed to be just sex, but pesky feelings are starting to get in the way. A tipping point is reached.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me On A Sunday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [concavepatterns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/concavepatterns/gifts).



> For the 2015 Tasertots Holiday Exchange. Sorry for being a little late but this wound up being about 2000 words longer than I'd anticipated because Loki refused to shut up. Rated for language, innuendo and direct reference to smuttiness. No smut actual smut included though. Apologies.
> 
> The songs referenced are Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift and Tell Me On a Sunday from the Andrew Llyod Webber musical of the same name as performed by [Marti Webb](https://youtu.be/_rk8QVuVAiQ)

Loki flinched as the door to Darcy’s room slammed between them, a wall to fill the space he’d carved out between them with the biting edge of his tongue. He stood there, eyes shut against the storm of emotion that was raging within, jaw and fists clenching and unclenching over and over.  He sucked in one deep breath to calm himself, and then another, and another as one after the next they failed to calm him.  This was his fault.  Even as he’d spit the scathing words in her direction he’d known that he was overreacting, lashing out at her for something that wasn’t her fault.  He took a few shaky steps backwards and the wall that he backed up against was the cool stone of a tiny subterranean bolt hole where he sometimes stayed when he had a particular need to shield himself from watchful eyes, but no patience for dealing with Thor. He let his head fall back with small thud and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, knees tight against his chest.   

_How had it come to this?_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

It was extraordinary, really, that they had even met to begin with.  Despite there being only a single degree of separation between them since his brother’s banishment, circumstance and consequence had kept their paths from ever crossing. Even his current plans - the bargain with Thor and the silent preparations for the Mad Titan’s inevitable arrival - would never have seen them come face to face in spite of her baffling loyalty to the Foster woman, and apparently inviolate position as a key member of the Thunder God’s Midgardian retinue. _Loki’s_ plans had not included revealing his continued existence or whereabouts to anyone other than Thor if it could be helped. It was not just the fact that half the galaxy was out for his blood, and almost entirely justified in that desire. As bitter a pill as it was to swallow, Loki was simply more effective when working from the shadows.

But Thor had made it clear that there would be no bargain if it meant deceiving his beloved Jane, and as much time as the Lewis girl spent in the company of both demi-god and astrophysicist attempting to keep her in the dark would likely have proven more detrimental than not. In telling her outright she could be included in the magical contract that kept him from accidental discovery so long as he fulfilled his end of the deal.  Loki had taken what consolation he could in the fact that Selvig, though recovering, had been disinclined to stay in close quarters with anyone or anything from Asgard and had distanced himself, taking the British boy, the one time intern’s intern, on as his own assistant.  

At their initial introduction Darcy had delivered a scathing report of her opinion on the situation and on him which was both astounding in its creativity and wit and infuriating in its insolence and vulgarity.  He’d half expected her to call whatever contacts she had with Shield or Stark right then and there, but she’d looked him dead in the eye and completed the contract. As soon as his business was concluded he’d left, making a concerted effort to rid himself of the distinct impression that Darcy Lewis would somehow prove to be his undoing.  

It hadn’t taken long for Loki to come to appreciate having a place to retreat to between excursions where he could shed his illusions without having to worry about being discovered.  The contract had raised a reasonably permanent shield about the dwelling that Thor and Jane had settled in, with Darcy claiming space on the other side of the building, and it was a relief to be able to take advantage of that aspect.  As he’d spent more and more time there, he’d found himself in the company of the mouthy assistant with increasing frequency simply by virtue of sharing the same space.  When she proved herself well learned on a wide variety of subjects and more than capable of matching wits with him in a verbal sparring match, he’d found himself looking forward to crossing words with her. It certainly didn’t hurt that she was more than easy on the eyes, and their verbal battles soon took on a edge of sexual tension.

He hadn’t counted on her being forward enough to proposition him outright though, and certainly not for something quite so risque. He’d certainly enjoyed himself upon accepting it, and over the weeks that followed he’d delighted in having found a sexual partner as curious and creative and _uninhibited_ as himself. It had been a relief to know that she the only thing she expected him to give her was orgasms, something she had made quite clear the next time she’d seen him following that first impulsive, explosive night when she’d posed the question of whether his doppelgangers could be made fully corporeal and maintained through climax (her wording had been far more colorful). He’d let her drag him over to the sofa sit him down. As soon as he was settled she had launched into a speech that he suspected she’d rehearsed in the mirror before he arrived.

“ _Right, so I’m not even going to try and pretend that the other night was anything less than the most abso-fucking-lutely amazing sex I’ve ever had ever, but there’s still a couple details we really need to iron out before even thinking about an encore.  Yes, the sex was stellar, yes, I want more of it, but that’s all I’m interested in. I’m also planning on trying out some seriously kinky shit, so it’s got the be ironclad that we do nothing unless we’re both 100% on board with it. I’m sure we’ll still find plenty to do. When we’re not banging we don’t owe each other a thing. That said, as much as I enjoy our epic sass battles, it might be nice to try having the occasional conversation that doesn’t require being antagonistic. Just a suggestion. Getting back to the conditions for continuing to have epic magical sex marathons on a regular basis, you and I both know going in that this is going to be a temporary arrangement.  I just ask that if you’re the one to end it, don’t be a  dick about it.  If we know it’s coming we can avoid the mess of an ugly breakup.  Here, just shut up and listen for a couple minutes.”_

She’d pressed a button on her music player and a woman’s voice began to sing a bittersweet song imploring her current lover to be kind when the time came to end the relationship, pleading that they forgo fighting and recrimination in favor of spending a final pleasant day together before parting ways.

_~I'd like to choose how I hear the news_

_Take me to a park that's covered with trees_

_Tell me on a Sunday, please~_

 

Her demands were few and all simple enough things to agree to easily.  They had then proceeded to test the limits of their combined imaginations and inclinations at nearly every available opportunity, and if she made regular mention of the temporary nature of their arrangement it was merely one less thing he’d have to worry about when the contract ran it’s course.

But then, slowly, things had begun to change. They had begun spending more and more time together outside of the bedroom. (Not that they’d ever much confined their activities to rooms containing beds, but that was entirely besides the point.) It had started with small things, him lingering in her rooms through the morning after a long night of passion, her sitting and drinking her coffee with him when came by during the day instead of waving him in the direction of the coffee pot or dropping a cup in his hand before getting right back to work. He found, though, that the more time they spent together, the less her reminders of their impermanence felt like a comfort.

Then there had been a day in which he’d come over, stressed and raw nerved after spending far too long in the company of the infuriating, impossible metal man that called himself Vision in an attempt to analyse the energy patterns given off by the mind gem, fully intending to bend Darcy over the nearest flat surface and bury his face in her cunt until she screamed herself hoarse before fucking her until neither of them could so much as remember their own names. But she hadn’t responded when he called out to her, and when he’d gone looking he’d found her curled around the toilet, spitting bile into the bowl.  

His reaction had surprised him almost as much as it did her.  Rather than summon Jane or Thor to tend to her, he’d scooped her gently off the floor, worked a quick spell to settle her stomach and tucked her into a cocoon of blankets on the sofa. They’d sat and watched her ridiculous shows for hours that afternoon, pausing at her insistence when he would get up to get her water or crackers, and he’d stayed for additional series marathons over the next few days until she had recovered enough to return to work. It had felt natural for his irritation to fade in the face of her need.

Much to his surprise, he’d actually enjoyed many of the programs and so a few days later he’d come by again to finish the last series they’d started, and from there it had become a regular thing. They moved easily from discussing the shows they watched together, to talking about what kinds of things they like to read, and from that it was a small step to conversing about anything that came to mind.  Midgard was fascinating when looked at from her perspective, and he rediscovered a joy in learning for it’s own sake that he’d nearly forgotten.

By this time her references to  their inevitable separation were making him increasingly uncomfortable despite his best efforts ignore his rather puzzling reaction. And then, just when he was beginning to fear that he would have no choice but to confront the unexpected shift in his emotions, all references to ‘their future apart’ had stopped. Whatever the reason, she’d simply stopped bringing it up… oh for weeks now and he had (with a certain relieved determination) not given the idea a moment's thought since.  And so he had been quite unprepared, when he arrived this evening, for her to compare them to a song she was listening to. She asked if he thought he might remember her now and then a thousand years from now, ‘even if it was just in his wildest dreams’.  He was even less prepared for the feeling that the thought of it provoked.  It was like someone had punched him in the gut, a sick feeling that traveled up his chest and wrapped around his heart and _squeezed_ , until burning words came pouring out like poison from his mouth.

_“If you insist on exposing me to this mindless drivel, then I will most assuredly make it a priority to forget you as soon as possible!”_

His unexpectedly venomous response had thrown her, and her fantastically quick wit had faltered, lacing her scornful reply with wariness and a hint of injury.

_“What the hell, you ass… It’s not like I’m forcing you to be here.  If I make for such a terrible memory then why the fuck are you even here?  And you’re one to talk… like you haven’t done plenty that I wish I could forget.”_

Despite the thinly veiled hurt in her eyes, her words had been like salt on a wound that had been festering unnoticed for an age and he’d lashed out even harder, quickly escalating the argument well beyond reason until they were screaming in each others faces. It had ended when he went too far.  He’d said something truly vile and hateful and the look of betrayal in her eyes had reminded him of everything he despised about himself. Though he’d abruptly halted his rant ,she gave him no opportunity to recant his words or apologize or even calm down.  

Shaking with suppressed fury, she’d raised one fist from where it was clenched at her side and pointed sharply at the door.

_“Get out.”_

When he did not immediately comply, the steely directive was repeated in a rising shriek as advanced on him backing him out her door which she’d promptly slammed in his face.

Which brought him to his current circumstance, hiding in a hole far, far away from anyone who might bear witness to the tears he could not keep from falling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The sound of crinkling paper pulled Darcy out of the daze that she’d fallen into upon reaching the tall wrought iron gate at the entrance to the park.  As she walked slowly through the gate and started down the path she glanced down again at the note she had clutched in her hand, written in the gorgeous looping script that she so loved to needle him about. Seriously, where the hell did he learn to write like that? It had less than zero similarity to the runes that the Asgardian language used, but was every bit as elegant and graceful as nearly everything else about him.

 

_I will wait for you this Sunday from noon until sunset at the bench by the largest tree in Merceid Park. I shall be wearing the gold striped scarf._

 

She hadn’t seen Loki since she’d slammed the door in his face over a week ago, and she’d come home yesterday to find the slip of parchment tucked into her door jamb.  Sunday afternoon in a beautiful park, after a fight that had culminated in an insult she wasn’t sure was quite ready to forgive him for yet.  But she did miss him.  And she had a terrible feeling that she was going to be missing him even more in the near future.

If it were anyone else she might have been able to tell herself that the setting was just a coincidence, but Loki never forgot _anything_ . So the chances of this being the end of the crazy, unexpected, passionate, _amazing_ relationship _thing_ that she had shared with the God of Mischief were painfully high. Which sucked. Big time.  

She’d gone into this knowing damn well it was a limited time engagement, and she’d been very careful to make sure that he knew that she knew it.  It had been about curiosity and lust and a unique opportunity to play with certain sexual fantasies that were for most people firmly stuck in the realm of fantasy.  And he had been totally up for that.  So now she was probably one hundred percent ruined for sex with anyone else, and not just because magical, shapeshifting lovers who can be in more than one place at a time were kind of hard to come by. Hell, she was probably ruined for regular sex with anyone else because even when Loki wasn’t using his magic the sex was astounding.  Like, she hadn’t even got a third of the way through the list of things she wanted to try that were only possible with magic because the non-magic sex was just that good.  

It wasn’t just the sex either. It hadn’t been just sex for her for way longer than she was comfortable admitting.  Even now, when she was still mad enough to pluck him bald for that fucking bullshit line he’d dropped at the height of the screaming match he’d started for no good reason, she missed _him_. She’d never known anyone who could keep up with her in conversation the way he could.  Now that he was past that whole ‘you people are ants and I’m going to rule you for your own good’ thing he’d had going, he was interested in almost everything, despite his best efforts to remain aloof.  His curiosity was insatiable and he was ridiculously smart and they would wind up talking about the most obscure or bizarre or mundane things for hours, laughing at jokes that most people didn’t have the right sense of humor to be amused by.

Little by little she had started to learn to read him.  She sure as hell wasn’t deluding herself that she had him completely figured out, but she’d noticed that that he did seem to have certain little tells. Not when he was lying or being snide or flippant, he was utterly smooth then.  But truth was harder for him, especially the kinds of truths that could leave him vulnerable, emotional truths most of all. And when he was pressed to give such truths, he gave himself away.  He’d pick at his left palm or his lips and jaw would work before he spoke, as if needing to feel the shape of the words before letting go of them.  It was and imperfect barometer at best, and there was always the possibility that he knew exactly was he was doing and it was all part of one grand deception.  But every so often she would catch a fleeting glimpse of ancient pain and bone deep exhaustion in his eyes, and she had to believe that couldn’t be faked.

The path to the area he’d described climbed a small rise that overlooked some of the prettiest parts of the park and she could hear the faint sounds of children and adults playing some distance away.  At the wide wooden bench perched near the top of the rise, under a tree that was probably older than the park itself, sat a small, mousy looking man gazing off into the distance. He wore a gold-striped scarf and held a small bouquet in his hands.  

He gave no visible indication that he was aware of her approach, but he _was_ doing his illusion thing.The altered appearance had been expected, most people on Earth still thought the trickster was dead and/or evil after all, but the bouquet was a surprise.  She was close enough now to see that the arrangement was composed of deep purple hyacinth and pristine white Star of Bethlehem flowers with rue filling the gaps.  Her breath caught when she realized what he’d done.  

Some time ago she had filled a vase with red poppies for Veteran’s Day, a tradition she’d picked up during Team Science’s stay in London.  Loki’s eternal curiosity had sparked a discussion about the symbolic meanings of flowers and plants in popular culture from modern times to antiquity that had lasted most of the day and had included trips to both the library and the book store in search of sources that gave more information than could be gathered from internet search engines.  It had ended with Loki creating illusions of all the different flowers said to represent beauty, passion, desire and lust as luminous tattoos across her skin and then proceeded to trace each image with his hands and mouth until she was incoherent with need.  It had truly been a day to remember, and if she was remembering correctly now, all of the flowers he was holding represented regret and remorse, a wish to atone.  A true apology bouquet. It was quite possibly the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her, and her heart broke at the thought that it might well be last thing he ever gave her.

When she took a seat beside him at the bench, the illusion wavered a moment before giving way to the long elegant limbs and perfectly formed features that she had come to know oh so well.  From past experience she knew that anyone who might pass by would still see the illusion he’d created and that her appearance was now being altered by the spell as well.

They sat side by side in silence for several minutes before Loki finally spoke, his voice soft and hesitant.

“I owe you an apology.”  He shifted in his seat so that his body was angled towards hers and offered up the bouquet in supplication. “Though I’ll admit to being several centuries out of practice  at how to properly go about it.” He had yet to meet her eyes, so Darcy took the opportunity to watch for his tells. His jaw clenched three times before he spoke again.

“What I said the other day was both blatantly untrue and wholly uncalled for.  Inexcusable really.  The only reason I can give is that I allowed my anger to overcome my judgement and choose my words with the intention of being as hurtful as possible. I can tell you that I regretted them nearly as soon as they’d left my mouth, but for all my magic I know of no spell to steal back words once uttered, and so they remain said.  All I can do now is swear to be more mindful of what I say in anger, and hope that you can accept my apology and perhaps, in time, see fit to forgive me for it. I _am_ sorry.”

All of this had been delivered without looking up from the flowers in his hand, and had been accompanied by quite a bit of jaw clenching and lip wetting.  His eyes had flicked away and he’d swallowed hard at least twice.  All of these would have been classic signs of insincerity coming from anyone else. From the Liesmith, though, they indicated a painful honesty that cost him far more effort than any falsehood.  

Darcy finally took the bouquet from him, absently noting that in the absence of something to clasp, his hands went immediately to worrying at his left palm. She laid it gently on the far side of the bench before turning back to address the man beside her.

“Out of practice or not, you put together a pretty damn good apology here, and I _will_ accept it.  I don’t know if I’m quite ready to forgive you though.  It certainly doesn’t help that I still haven’t figured out why you got so mad to begin with. I’m not even sure what the hell that fight was even about.  I also need to know why we’re here,” he made as if to interject, but she cut him off with a finger to his lips, “ and before you say that’s it’s so you can apologize, I want to know why _here._ Why the middle of a wooded park on a Sunday afternoon.  I _know_ you know what I mean, so please, _please_ , if we could just lay it all out here I would really appreciate it.”

He sighed and pulled her hand away from his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the backs of her fingers before clasping it gently between both of his and finally looking up to meet her eyes.

Oh Gods, his eyes.  She felt like she might drown in the naked emotion that was shining from his eyes. So many emotions he’d never purposely let her see before, and she was aching with it and they spilled over into his voice, so that every word was a revelation.

“Dearest Darcy, I have little doubt that you already know why I chose this place and time, though it is more complicated than you think.   You deserve your explanation, and I only ask that you hear me out entirely before making a decision.

“When we began this affair we both made clear that it was not something we expected to last, that it was strictly ‘for now’ with no expectations of ‘for ever’. Your only stipulation came in the form of a song that requested a gentle ending.  In one way or another what I’m about to say will change what is between us.  The way it that it will change I leave to you, and so I brought us to the park so that should you choose an ending I might fulfill that first request.

“Any time you have made mention of where the coming months and years may chance to take us, you have always spoken of our futures as being entirely separate, even speculating on future lovers.  And at first it seemed a matter of course to me as well, that we would part one day never to meet again, so such talk of life after parting meant little more to me than idle banter.  

“But then, began to spend ever more time together, as I learned more about you, as I discovered your sense of humor and compassion, as you taught me about your world and I began to see its wonders through you... The idea of simply leaving one day became an increasingly uncomfortable thought. So I stopped thinking about it. And you had stopped mentioning it so often, making it possible to put it out of my mind entirely.

“Imagine my surprise then, when you asked me to imagine a thousand years without you and my heart (quite without my permission - I had wondered, in fact, if there was anything still left of it) struck up an immediate protest by twisting violently within my chest.  

“Among my many faults you may wish to make note of a distinct lack of sound judgement when I find myself under emotional duress, particularly when the catalyst was unexpected.  I suppose that’s something else I shall have to work on, lest I start trying to blow up more planets in the future.  I lashed out.  And I hurt the one person who deserved it the least.

“I’ve spent the last week thinking about you, about this, about us. Should I leave before either of us get hurt again? Do I even want to leave? So many questions and no easy answers. I have burned more bridges than I care to count in the last few years, some of them quite literally.  Many were burned in the throes of anger or madness, but quite a number were burned while trying to protect myself from further pain.  It hasn’t worked yet, and I’ve lost much in the attempt.  I find myself reluctant to burn any more bridges than I absolutely must at this point.  And when I sat and forced myself to think about a future without you in it, I found that I had no interest in such a future.”

Loki hadn’t yet released her hand from when he’d taken it at the start of his speech.  He’d laced his fingers with hers and rubbed circles over her knuckles with his other hand. Having reached a breathing point, he gave her hand one final squeeze before freeing it.  Darcy had never seen him look quite so uncomfortable in his own skin before. He was twitchy all over and every tell she’d ever noticed seemed to be in overdrive.  She wasn’t in much better shape herself and suspected that her heart was attempting to put her esophagus in a chokehold at the moment. But there was a growing resolve in his eyes, and with deep breath he continued.

“I am not a good man Darcy Lewis, and I don’t know that I ever will be.  I have little to offer, and it often seems that my flaws will forever outnumber my merits.  I would not fault you if chose to put an end to what there is between us now, and bade me never show my face to you again. Even if, by chance, you too had come to desire a future that does not see us part at all, I cannot offer you forever, no matter how dearly I wish it. If I were to offer, if would be far too close to a lie that I could never wish to tell. I have made far too many enemies and the coming battle is one that I cannot escape.  Should you still with to stay despite all of this, it would be one of the greatest joys of my life to spend as much time as I can manage here with you, living each day as though we planned to never part again.”

Darcy was certain that she’d never seen anything more beautiful than his eyes at that moment. Nevermind the fact that everything was a great big blur from the tears that her uncontrollable smiling had  pushed out of her eyes.  She counted it a major win when she was able to keep her voice at least mostly steady as she replied.

“I make it a point not to worry about forever when things are getting apocalyptic.  As scary as it is to admit, there may not be a forever to promise if Thanos isn’t stopped.  It’s been quiet lately, but major trouble’s on it’s way.  Right now one day at a time sounds pretty damn good.  If we make it past the storm we can worry about forever then.  I’m mostly just glad you’re not leaving, because I’m pretty sure I’m at least most of the way in love with you.  I’ve gotta warn you, though, once you sign up for the full Darcy Lewis package, you’ll be hard pressed to get rid of me. Still up for it?”

He answered her question with a kiss so tender that it would have brought her to tears if she hadn’t been crying already.  From the wetness on her fingers as she traced the line of his cheekbones, she wasn’t the only one.

“Precious girl, I will be up for it as long as you’ll have me.”

**Author's Note:**

> If Loki seems a bit OOC, it's because this fic is set after some pretty intense (and not entirely voluntary) soul searching on his part. Most of the events referenced in this fic will, in time, be written out as fics in this series, in no particular order.


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